Living My Best Life

by Claire Frost

  ‘Coming to the pub in a bit, Bell?’ Ade asked later as she helped pack away his camera and equipment.

  ‘No, I’m going to head home, I’m afraid. Lots to catch up on,’ she replied.

  ‘Aww, that’s a shame. But I mean it about the photography stuff, do drop me a message if you need any advice or just want a chance to practise your camera skills, won’t you.’

  *

  Back at home, Bell trawled through the hundreds of emails she’d received while she’d been out of the office that afternoon, hitting delete on any she could before tapping out replies to the most urgent. Her fingers then strayed to Instagram, where she scrolled through the day’s posts from her supposed new inspirations. Most of what was on there was fun but hardly motivating. Noticing she hadn’t seen a post from @mi_bestlife, she searched for her handle and spotted she’d put up a new pic with a lengthy screed beneath it. The image showed a picture of her adorable son in full football kit with the words:

  Sometimes life doesn’t quite turn out how you might want it to and it throws you a curveball, but the universe has always got your back. Whatever happens I know I’ve always got my little Wolf by my side. I hope he grows up to know just how loved he is and to always remember that the world is his for the taking. But the most important piece of advice for him has to be: when life gives you curveballs, score some goals! #striker #goals #littleangel #thisisfive #mummyblogger

  Bell thought she might vomit. As cute as little Wolf undoubtedly was, she found Millie’s declaration unbearably twee.

  ‘Urgh, her life is just too perfect for words,’ she sighed when she was telling Cosette about it on the phone later.

  ‘Maybe it is, but you know as well as I do that social media is hardly a true reflection of real life. And if he’s anything like Oli was when he was five, he’ll be a right nightmare!’ Cosette laughed. ‘Although, did I tell you what the headteacher said when Rich and I went into school the other week?’

  ‘Oh god, no, what awful things had he been up to?’ Bell asked, feeling immediately guilty as her sister had told her at the time she was worried about being called in to see the head, and she’d completely forgotten to ask her what had happened.

  ‘Well, she proceeded to tell us what a brilliant pupil he was, so much so that they were thinking about asking him to be head boy in September! There I was questioning him about his wrongdoings when in fact he’d been a model pupil. Christ, I felt so bad we ended up taking both him and Sophie to McDonald’s for their dinner.’

  ‘That’s amazing news, good for Oli. Tell that nephew of mine that I’ll take him to the cinema to see a film of his choice when I next see him.’

  ‘Will do, though you do know what you’re letting yourself in for, Bell?’ Cosette warned. ‘He’ll hold you to that promise and you’ll have to sit through two tedious hours of the latest Minecraft movie. Rather you than me!’

  ‘Well, I’ve watched enough sci-fi movies with Col to have an appreciation of these things.’ There was a beat of silence.

  ‘How are things on that front?’ her sister asked tentatively.

  ‘I’m so busy at work I don’t have much time to think about it,’ Bell said, omitting any confession that when she was tucked up in bed her ex and their relationship still filled her mind. ‘He emailed me today, though.’

  ‘Did he? That’s good. What did he want?’

  ‘He suggested we start sorting out our joint assets, although as this amounts to the forty-two-inch TV I hate, because it takes over half the lounge, and the house itself, there isn’t that much to sort. He can pick up the rest of his books, CDs and kitchen stuff whenever he wants.’

  ‘And how do you feel about that?’ Cosette probed.

  ‘I know a clean break should be the best solution all round, but it’s so . . . final.’

  ‘But isn’t that a good thing, Bell? It’s not like you want to get back with him, is it?’

  Bell cursed her sister for being so reasonable. ‘Of course not!’ She paused. ‘Well, not really, anyway.’

  ‘Bell, I know it’s horrible, but it is for the best,’ Cosette said gently. ‘Have you thought what you’re going to do with the house? You know, we could lend you a bit of money if you wanted to buy Colin out? No, don’t say anything yet,’ she added quickly as Bell began to protest. ‘Take some time and think it over and then let’s have another chat about it. I know how much you love that place and how excited you were when you moved in, and it would be a shame to lose it if you didn’t have to. Anyway, have a think.’ She took a breath. ‘Actually, that reminds me, Rich asked me to ask you if you happen to want some photographic equipment. He bought a pretty expensive SLR camera from his mate a few years back, but it’s been taking up room we don’t have in the loft for ages so I’ve threatened him with eBay. But he thought it was worth mentioning as you do, and I quote him, “fashion and photography and all that shit”.’

  There was silence as she waited for Bell to respond. ‘Bell, you still there? Don’t feel you have to take it, but I said I’d ask. He won’t want much for it.’

  ‘Er, yeah, no, yes I might be interested,’ she stuttered in reply. ‘You haven’t been recruited by MI6 and started secretly listening to my conversations, have you, Sis?’

  ‘What? What are you talking about, you weirdo?’ Cosette said, confused.

  ‘Don’t worry. But, yes, get Rich to email me some details and I can put the money straight into his account.’

  ‘Really? Amazing! I’ll get him to sort it out for you. And just so you know, if I really did work for MI6 I’d be the best spy ever. I’ve always fancied a bit of James Bond action.’

  ‘Haven’t we all, Cosette, haven’t we all.’

  As she ended the call, Bell thought that, weirdly, maybe @mi_bestlife was right. Sometimes life really did throw you curveballs, and maybe you did have to use them to score some goals. She pulled her laptop on to her knee and began googling photography classes nearby.

  Chapter Eight

  Millie

  It had been a trying few weeks. After the initial excitement of seeing his dad had worn off, Wolf had started asking why he hadn’t been allowed to spend longer with him that weekend, and when he was going to see him again. He’d now taken to marking off the days on a calendar till his next weekend with Louis, and it was often the first thing he talked about when he woke up in the morning. Millie wanted to encourage him to have a meaningful relationship with his dad, but it was all becoming a bit much if she was honest.

  She’d messaged Louis to warn him how desperate Wolf was to spend an entire weekend with him, and he replied:

  That’s my boy! Why don’t we change it up and I’ll have him this coming weekend? I’m guessing you haven’t got plans.

  To make things worse, the Sunday evening after her ruined night out with Tom, she’d been idly looking at the gossip news sites when she’d spotted pictures online of Louis with a very young blonde girl on his arm. His ‘squad thing’ ordered by the manager turned out to be a massive night out. He must have driven home breaking the speed limit at every turn, and then made up for being late to the party by drinking until dawn, at which point he and the girl were pictured stumbling into a taxi together. Still worse was that Millie couldn’t even be bothered to confront him about it. It just wasn’t worth the inevitable argument, which he was bound to twist around so she ended up in the wrong, not him.

  Millie’s relationship with Louis was complicated. It always had been, she supposed. In many ways, they’d made the most unlikely couple. They’d first met almost seven years ago in a bar in Birmingham. Twenty-three and determined to work hard at her job as a fashion buyer and to play hard in every spare minute she wasn’t at work, the only thing on Millie’s mind that Saturday night had been fun, fun, fun. So when a bunch of good-looking guys had offered to buy her and her friends drinks, she wasn’t going to refuse. The girls stood by the bar giggling and nudging each other while all five guys competed to be the first to catch the bartender’s eye
, and eventually came over carrying pints of beer, pitchers of vodka Red Bull and a tray of shots.

  ‘We thought you might be thirsty!’ smirked a stocky guy, who had clearly been taking hairstyling lessons from One Direction, when he saw Millie’s raised eyebrow.

  ‘Well, never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that!’ she replied.

  ‘Cheeky! Though it has been said parts of me – or should I say, a very specific part of me – has the girth of a horse!’

  The guys all jeered.

  ‘That’s not quite what your last girlfriend said, though, mate – wasn’t it more a pony she compared it to?!’ one of the others heckled. Cue more laughter and hilarity, obviously. ‘Here you go,’ the heckler added, handing Millie a drink. ‘Cheers to gorgeous boys meeting gorgeous girls and everyone having a good time!’

  Millie rolled her eyes, but joined in with the general giggling and whooping.

  ‘I’m Louis,’ he said, sticking out his hand. Millie looked up at his athletic build, closely cropped dark hair, chocolate-brown eyes and chiselled cheekbones and immediately thought: player.

  ‘Millie,’ she replied warily, shaking his outstretched hand.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Millie,’ Louis said, pulling her shoulder towards him with his other hand and promptly kissing her on the cheek. ‘What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a bar like this without a boyfriend by your side?’

  ‘How do you know he’s not waiting for me at home?’ she threw back.

  ‘Is he?’

  ‘No, I’m happily single,’ she smiled.

  ‘That’s because we’ve only just met. Do you live in Birmingham – you don’t have an accent?’

  ‘I grew up down south, but yes I live here now.’ Millie decided she wasn’t going to make anything easy for him, especially as a quick look round at her friends revealed they hadn’t bothered to get any further than first names before giving up on the chat and getting to know the others better, on a physical level at least.

  Louis noticed her glance. ‘Don’t worry, they all look happily engaged! Although poor Martin has been left on the sidelines again.’ He nodded at the gangly, awkward-looking lad staring into his pint nearby. ‘But what he doesn’t have in looks, poor bugger, he makes up for on the pitch – he’s our goalie.’

  ‘You’re a footballer?’ Millie asked. A player in every sense of the word, then.

  ‘Yeah, we’ve been known to kick a ball around,’ he grinned. ‘We play for Walsall.’

  ‘Is that good?’ She refused to be impressed.

  ‘Well, we’re in League One, so we can’t be too rubbish, and we won our match today three–two. I may have scored one of those goals,’ he laughed. ‘And it’s every boy’s dream to play football professionally, so, you know, mustn’t grumble.’

  ‘League One? That’s the third division, right?’

  ‘I can’t pull the wool over your eyes, can I! Yep, it’s not the Premier League or the Championship, but that just means I’ve got something to aim for. And let’s just say me and my agent are feeling pretty excited about the future.’

  ‘Good for you,’ she smiled. ‘Have you got the typical footballer’s mansion and fast car?’

  ‘Why, do you want a ride?’ he asked suggestively.

  Millie couldn’t hide her giggle. ‘I bet you spend a lot of time picking up girls in bars like this and then “giving them a ride”.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Louis smirked. ‘Though none of them are as pretty as you.’

  ‘Smooth!’ She laughed and clinked her glass against his. ‘Though you’ll have to try harder than that with your cheesy chat-up lines.’

  ‘Who says I was trying to chat you up? I was just making polite conversation, I’ll have you know. Fancy a sambuca?’ he asked, grabbing a couple of shots from the tray next to him. ‘They’re all too busy snogging so we might as well drink theirs too.’

  Several sambucas later, the bartenders made it clear it was chucking-out time. Millie’s friends were all saying goodbye to their chosen guys in time-honoured fashion, and even Martin seemed to have managed to pull, judging by the mass of writhing limbs in the corner.

  ‘If you give me your number, maybe I can show you my sports car collection and house – sorry, mansion – one night?’ Louis said, leaning against the bar as they both surveyed the carnage around them.

  Millie was loath to admit, even to herself, how much she’d enjoyed their flirty banter – and how attractive she found Louis, despite knowing he was trouble with a capital T.

  ‘Maybe. Depends if you have a swimming pool, home cinema and games room complete with full-size snooker table. Anything less and I would be hugely disappointed and couldn’t possibly refer to it as a footballer’s mansion.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to come round and find out. Though don’t forget your bikini.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of missing out on a glass of bubbly in the hot tub – I presume you have a Jacuzzi?’

  ‘I could hardly call myself a footballer without one, could I?’

  He grinned, then his eyes seemed to darken even further and he held her gaze as he bent his head to kiss her. Millie surprised herself by not even trying to resist, and instead allowed herself to enjoy the long, delicious moment.

  ‘Aye aye, King Louis is having his wicked way with a lady again!’

  ‘Yeah, thanks, Yatesy.’ Louis grinned at his mates as they all jumped on him and descended into general rowdiness.

  Millie was fairly sure that despite allowing him to type her number into his phone, the only way she was going to hear from Louis again was some kind of booty call. However, whereas his mates quickly moved on to fresh blood (their phrase), Louis kept up a constant barrage of messages until Millie reluctantly agreed to a date as long as it was ‘anywhere but that flashy mansion of yours’.

  Obviously, she googled him extensively beforehand and found that while he appeared to live in a fairly nondescript new-build three-bed house in an ordinary suburb of town, it was true that he seemed to be tipped for soccer stardom by those in the know. She also found out he was twenty-two years old, his parents lived in Staffordshire and his pre-match routine involved wearing the same pair of underpants for every game, among other things.

  ‘The internet can be most illuminating,’ she remarked as they shared spring rolls and spicy prawns in an upmarket Chinese restaurant a few weeks later.

  ‘Except when it comes to you,’ Louis replied, licking chilli sauce from the ends of his fingers. ‘You barely seem to exist!’

  ‘That’s the way I like it.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, you can ask me anything you want to know face to face. Isn’t that what going on a date is all about?’

  ‘But you have the upper hand as you already know stuff about me!’

  ‘As I said, that’s the way I like it.’

  ‘You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before,’ he said later as they walked towards New Street station together. Millie had even allowed him to hold her hand.

  ‘You mean, I haven’t immediately agreed to shag you and you can’t work out why?’ she smiled.

  ‘No, yes, well maybe,’ he replied, laughing. ‘But you’re different. You look so cool and seem so sorted. And, well, you know things . . .’

  ‘Yes, well, I might only work in fashion, but I’m also a twenty-three-year-old well-educated woman who makes it her business to, as you put it, know things. Though so do most women, actually. Who have you been going out with, for god’s sake!’

  ‘Erm, well, they’ve mostly been young and blonde and, er, enthusiastic,’ he said, his cheeks flushing.

  ‘So you have a type.’ Millie raised her eyebrow. ‘And I appear to be the antithesis of that type, being older than you, brunette and not quite as enthusiastic. Interesting . . .’

  ‘As I said, I’ve never met anyone like you before. I’ve clearly been missing out.’

  Although Millie refused Louis’ invitation to go back to his place (‘Well, you can’t fault a guy for trying!’), she did
agree to another date. And another. And by date six, she did agree to go home with him (‘Although I haven’t brought my bikini so I hope that doesn’t mean the hot tub is out of bounds.’).

  In some ways she felt older and more mature than Louis in his football-team bubble; in others she realised he was winning at being a grown-up: he had his own home, a car and a career he loved that was only going to get bigger. She was sharing a rented terraced house that could do with some TLC from the landlord, had nowhere to park a car let alone the money to buy one, and although she enjoyed working for a high-street chain as a fashion buyer, she wished she had a more creative outlet for her passion. Her friends were all excited she was dating a footballer – and indeed many of them tried out a few of Louis’ teammates for size themselves, though other than a few one-night stands here and there, nothing much came of it. However, they were also worried she was going to get hurt.

  ‘They’re all good craic, but hardly marriage material, are they, Mills,’ her friend Bronagh declared over copious amounts of cheap white wine one night. ‘And I know you’re not planning on marrying him, but it’s been six months now, so it has. Are you serious about this thing?’

  ‘I know what you’re saying, Bron, but what does serious even mean at our age?’ Millie slurred. ‘Look, he’s hot, funny, and pretty damn good in bed, so I’m not complaining!’ The girls all shrieked with laughter, though Millie refused to give them any more details. ‘Let’s just say he knows how to stay fit!’ she cackled.

  And then a few months later, Louis got his big break and was signed to Championship side Wolverhampton Wanderers. Within weeks his life changed completely – suddenly he was attending press conferences and official photo shoots and being offered sponsorship deals. And the money poured in. He quickly sold the three-bed semi and bought a five-bedroom detached house in a nicer part of town, as well as a flashy boy-racer car. Weirdly, Millie’s life didn’t really change at all. Sure, she occasionally got her picture taken by the Birmingham Mail when she attended some event or other with Louis, but she still worked nine to five in her job – there had been vague promises about a potential promotion at some point – and she still lived with her housemates in their slightly run-down terrace. Although she did now spend quite a bit of time at Louis’ place.